


An Empty Nest

by Diana Williams (dkwilliams)



Series: Misconceptions Universe [4]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/Diana%20Williams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>20 Years after the birth of their twins, Methos contemplates the passing years and the memories left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Empty Nest

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Misconceptions](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/6942) by Diana Williams. 



> A series of vignettes set in the "Misconceptions" universe. There are some hints to events that will be covered in the sequels (eventually).

January, 2018

The house was quiet as Methos made his way through the rooms, shutting things down and locking the doors for the night. Over the past twenty years, he had gotten used to the Clan being in and out all the time, and the twins created their own special brand of chaos that kept things lively. Now all of the Clan had scattered following the Christmas holidays. Joe was visiting his daughter and her family, Joey had returned to the University in Poitiers, and D.J. was settled into her apartment in Paris, preparing for the Trophée BNP-Paribas in Orleans next month with the English Cup to follow.

Too quiet, he thought with a sigh.

  
He locked the main door and glanced into the former nursery, now Duncan’s office, to make sure that everything was shut down for the night. The former play area outside the nursery had been converted into a green room, but for a moment he thought he could see toys scattered everywhere, and two toddlers crawling about into everything.  
__

_The twins reached for Duncan’s abandoned plate and the cookies on it.  
_

_"No." Duncan's voice was firm, even as two almost identical heads turned to look at him speculatively with identical green-gold eyes. "Don't touch."  
_

_The two heads turned as the toddlers shared a look, and Duncan could swear that some sort of unspoken communication was going on between the two. Then they looked back at him, mute pleading in their eyes. The same sort of look their other father got in his when he wanted Duncan to do something, the look that he had never been able to resist.  
_

_"Well…" he began.  
_

_Methos chuckled from across the room. "You're going to spoil them, Duncan," he scolded.  
_

_Duncan sighed. "I can’t help it," he said. "Not when they look at me like that."  
_

_"I know," he said smugly, crossing to pick up his son and toss him in the air. Joey squealed in delight and D.J. began chanting, "Da-da-da," to get her share of the attention from Duncan._

 

 

Methos passed through the doorway into the living room, checking that the entertainment system was shut down and the fire banked. The doors to both the outside and the hot spring were locked, then he climbed the stairs to the second floor and glanced into the guest room, already stripped of sheets and ready to be tidied for the next visitor.

He opened the door to D.J.’s room, sighing as he saw that she’d left a jumble of dirty sweats by the unmade bed, as usual. It took only a moment to tug the covers into place and collect the clothes for the laundry, a familiar task over the years.  
__

_The loud sounds of an argument caught Methos’ attention as he finished putting clean clothes away in D.J.’s dresser. The children, including the visiting Jacob, had been playing in the back yard, under John’s watchful eye; Methos went to the window to glance down into the back yard to see if he needed to intervene. D.J. was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring up at John, and Methos stepped back into the cover of the drapes so they wouldn’t see him.  
_

_“It’s **my** game,” D.J. was saying hotly. “I’m the leader and I decide!”  
_

_“It’s a stupid game!” Johnny protested.  
_

_“You take that back, Johnny Nash!” D.J. retorted.  
_

_“Yeah?” Johnny said, crossing his arms and staring down at the six-year-old girl with all the loftiness of his eighteen years. “Who’s gonna make me?”  
_

_The words were barely out of his mouth before D.J. made some kind of signal and John found himself tackled by the two boys as they efficiently took out his legs and brought him down to the ground. A moment later, D.J. was straddling his chest, attacking his ticklish spots with devastating accuracy.  
_

_“Uncle!” John cried out, laughing and squirming to get away from his tormentor.  
_

_D.J. paused, fingers still poised to recommence tickling. “You’ll play?”  
_

_He sighed. “I’ll play.”  
_

_Methos couldn’t help smiling as he stepped away from the windows. It was already clear that D.J. was destined to rule the world; he only hoped she’d be a benevolent dictator._

 

He checked Joseph’s room – tidy as always – and gathered the laundry from the bathroom hamper before heading downstairs to dump them in the laundry area. Then he opened the door to the kitchen and glanced inside, checking to make sure that Charlemagne had food and water. The elderly dog raised his head and thumped his tail against the floor but didn’t attempt to get up, and Methos squatted next to him to scratch behind his ears.

“Yeah, we both miss him, don’t we, boy?” he said softly. Charlemagne thumped his tail again then laid his head back down over the battered shoe he was guarding.

 

_Methos entered the darkened stable and was startled when something moved along the back wall. “Who’s there?” he asked sharply. There wasn’t a sense of Immortal Presence, but he knew that ordinary humans were just as dangerous.  
_

_“It’s just me, Papa,” said a familiar voice and a torch went on, illuminating his eight-year-old son’s face.  
_

_Methos frowned. “Joseph? What are you doing out of bed at this hour?” There was movement on the ground and he could just make out the shape of something lying on the stable floor beside his son._

_“What have you got there?”  
_

_“It’s – I found him. In the bushes by the gate,” his son said haltingly. “There were four of them, just abandoned there. The others – the others were dead, but he wasn’t. I gave him some milk and somebread, and he ate it just fine.”  
_

_Methos crouched down next to his son, and now he could see that the shadowy form was a puppy, not more than two months old. He sighed. “Joey, I don’t think – “  
_

_“I’ll take care of him, Papa!” Joseph said earnestly. “I promise! I’ll feed him and walk him, and clean up after him – I promise.”  
_

_“Son,” Methos said, as gently as he could, “A puppy, abandoned like that…the odds are not high in his favour. He could be sick – “  
_

_“I’ll pay for him to see the doctor! I’ve got money saved – and you can use my allowance to pay for his food, too!”  
_

_Considering that Joseph had been saving for months for books at Joe’s used bookstore in La Roche Posay, Methos thought he’d rarely heard a greater offer of sacrifice.  
_

_“Please, Papa?”  
_

_The tears in the corners of Joseph’s eyes were the final straw; he could never refuse that look in either his son’s or his husband’s eyes. “All right,” he said at last. “You can keep him.” A bright look of love and gratitude filled his son’s face and he stood up quickly so that he wouldn’t do anything overly sentimental. “Bring him into the house and I’ll take a look at him, then we’ll take him to the vet in the morning.” As Joseph picked up the puppy and stood up, the scent of unwashed dog wafted up. “And **you** will give him a bath, preferably before your father sees – or smells – him.”  
_

_“Yes, Papa.”  
_

_As they walked across the yard to the main house, Methos felt a small hand slide into his and he smiled._

 

After switching off the kitchen light, he went into the front hallway and, on impulse, opened the front door and stepped outside. The air was crisp and cold, making him shiver, and the moonlight glinted off the two cars remaining in the driveway, and D.J.’s beloved motorcycle – inherited from Richie – under its protective drape. D.J. adored the bike but it wasn’t practical to carry her equipment to meets, so she had left it with them for the next few months. Methos considered it a hostage against her eventual return, but Duncan was frankly relieved that she wasn’t going to be driving it through the streets of Paris.

 

_The roar of a motorcycle shattered the summer morning silence of Les Tardes. D.J.’s eyes lit up and she jostled the breakfast table as she jumped up.  
_

_“Uncle Richie!” she shouted, running out of the kitchen.  
_

_Methos grabbed his coffee cup to prevent the contents from sloshing over and eyed his husband. “The prodigal son has returned.”  
_

_Duncan gave him an amused look. “It’s only been four months.”  
_

_“Right – and last time he was here, he promised to teach D.J. to ride if she had her permit.”  
_

_Alarm crossed Duncan’s face and he jumped up from the table to dash after their daughter. “Daria Juliana, don’t you dare – “  
_

_The sound of a gunning engine answered him and Joseph snickered as he stirred his muesli. “Want to bet on who gets their way – Dad or D.J.?”  
_

_“I don’t make sucker bets,” Methos said in reply and poured another cup of coffee. It was going to be a long day._

 

Methos went back in the house and locked the front door, then made his way to the library where he closed down his laptop and turned off the lamp before turning to the fireplace. Light from the low flames reflected off the pictures and mementos on the walls opposite, moments in the Twins’ lives captured as they passed all too quickly: pictures from school pageants and sports days, D.J.’s Junior and Senior sabre trophies, Joseph’s language and scholarship awards, photos snapped to immortalize first dates and dances. He ran a finger along the frame of one, a hint of a smile tugging the corner of his mouth at the memory that it had been him and not Duncan who had had the most problem with their children’s romances.

 

_Methos paced back and forth across their bedroom floor, glaring occasionally at his husband as he lay propped up in their bed, reading.  
_

_“How can you just sit there, calmly reading?” he demanded. “Why aren’t you upset?”  
_

_Duncan barely even glanced up from his book. “You’re making too big a deal of this. Joey is hardly the first teenager to develop a crush.”  
_

_“I should have known you’d take it that way,” Methos snapped. “This is all your fault – you and your promiscuous genes! Which you have apparently passed on to our son!”  
_

_Duncan rolled his eyes as he laid the book down on his chest. “A bit of kissing on the sofa is nothing. And if we’re assigning blame, **you’re** the one who kept throwing them together.”  
_

_“Throw – just because I’ve been helping Jacob’s fathers with their research – “  
_

_“And you insisted that I train Jacob, along with the twins,” Duncan pointed out.  
_

_“I didn’t know that he was going to seduce my son!” Methos snapped, then slumped down on the end of the bed. “The next bloody Millennium Champion. You of all people know what that means to the people he loves. Why aren’t you more worried?”  
_

_Duncan laid the book on the night table and scooted down to sit beside his husband. “I might be – if that wasn’t nine-hundred years in the future. I’ll be surprised if they’re still dating in nine months.”  
_

_“So you just gave Joseph your approval?”  
_

_“I don’t think my approval is necessary,” Duncan pointed out. “Although, if you want me to, I can have a little talk with him about safe sex – you know, advise him to abstain if they happen to share aQuickening, However, considering how well that worked for us…”  
_

_“Not. Funny.”  
_

_Duncan kissed him, just a brief peck to shut his mouth. “Tell you what, old man – why don’t my promiscuous genes and I take you to bed and see if we can make you feel better?” He gave Methos a deeper kiss, this one bordering on dirty.  
_

_“That’s what started this whole mess in the first place,” Methos grumbled when Duncan ended the kiss, but he didn’t noticeably protest as Duncan pushed him down onto the bed and began removing his clothes._

 

Warm familiar arms wrapped around his waist and lips nuzzled the side of his neck. “Are you ever planning on coming to bed?” his husband asked.

Methos smirked. “Something you want, Mac?”

“Hell, yes.” Duncan tightened his hold and Methos could feel his husband’s aroused flesh press against him. “With the house full of guests, I haven’t been able to make you scream my name in weeks.”

“Someone has an inflated opinion of himself.”

“I’ll show you inflated if you come to bed.”

Methos rolled his eyes at the bad joke but turned in his husband’s embrace and gave him a kiss. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Duncan grinned, then glanced up at the wall of pictures and trophies behind Methos. “Feeling a little nostalgic, old man?”

“A little,” Methos admitted, glancing back at the photos before moving out of Duncan’s embrace to lead him toward the stairs. “Hard to believe that twenty years have gone by so fast. That they’realmost completely grown up and on their own.”

“Miss the early years?” Duncan asked, squeezing his hand as he followed him up the stairs. “Two o’clock feedings. Endless diaper changes. Little fingers into everything. Messes all over the house. Driving them to endless practices and meets. Sleepless nights tending them when they were sick.“

“Well, when you put it that way,” Methos said with a laugh, then admitted, “Yeah. I do miss it. More than I thought I would.”

“Softie,” Duncan teased, then drew him back into his arms. “Hey, we never did get to christen every room in the house, what with the babies and endless guests.”

Methos rolled his eyes. “You and your promiscuous genes.”

Duncan ignored that, kissing Methos until he no longer cared that their nest was empty.

 

_Epilogue – Six months later_

 

It wasn't an easy fight and Duncan was bleeding from more than a dozen wounds, most of them superficial, but he’d received a couple of deep cuts that bled away his life. He was almost at the end of his strength when he managed to knock his opponent's sword away from him. His hand swung a last time, taking the head cleanly away, and then he dropped his own sword and collapsed to his knees.  
He was dimly aware of running footsteps and a familiar Presence but he couldn't summon enough energy to cry out a warning. And then Methos was beside him, muttering "Bloody Hell, Mac!" as he hugged Duncan hard. Lightning crashed and swirled around them, piercing Duncan with sweet agony, binding him even more closely to the man he loved as they shared the violent Quickening. And then darkness overtook him and he knew no more.

When the darkness lifted, he was first aware of that he was lying in a bed, not a back street, and secondly of a delicious lethargy weighing down his body. The wounds from the fight were gone and in their place was the sated awareness of a body that had been well used. He stretched slowly, enjoying the sensation.

The warm weight lying heavily against his side shifted, disturbed by his stretching, and then he heard his husband's voice mutter, "Oh, _shit!"_

 

The End


End file.
